


Sins of the Flesh that the Dead Don't Have to Know

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Negan/OC fics [14]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Choking, Cunnilingus, Death, Dirty Talk, Drama, Episode: s08e01 Mercy, Episode: s08e05 The Big Scary U, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 14:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13905732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: Rachel and Negan get stuck in a trailer together. Is this a fortuitous opportunity? A character study in 8x01 'Mercy' and 8x05 'The Big Scary U'





	Sins of the Flesh that the Dead Don't Have to Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vizhi0n](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vizhi0n/gifts).



Squinting in the sun, Rachel casually leaned against one of their jerry-rigged armored cars. They’ve spent about three days preparing for war. Just three days. Three days of welding sheets of metal to cars for barriers, of tracking herds of walkers to redirect, of loading guns and organizing people and gathering volunteers. Rachel was one of those volunteers.

Originally, she wasn’t a fighter; she just scavenged and collected shit, but when push came to shove she got her ass out of there. She could’ve said no to the war effort and been one of the ones guarding Alexandria. Once they discussed the plan, though, she had to say yes. If things went well, she’d get in there and blasts some glass and then get out and chill at Alexandria until they surrendered. That wasn’t too stressful; she could handle that. In the meantime, the war effort had been going well. Rachel was pretty proud of her idea: armbands.

.......

“We need a way to identify ourselves,” she told Rick yesterday during one of his meetings.

Twisting his head away from one of their scribbled-out maps, Rick shot her a look of confusion. From across the table, Tara said, “Wouldn’t that make it easier for the Saviors? Kind of give them a target to shoot at?”

“The Saviors already have targets.” Rachel gestured toward Rick, and he sat back on his heels, a look like amusement crossing over his face. She shrugged, “No offense, Rick.”

“None taken. We have our targets, too.”

“Yeah, but the problem is that the Saviors are one group. They know each other. Even if they have some kind of alliance with those garbage people, garbage people are easily identified. Lots of denim, greasy hair. We’re three groups. How am I supposed to know if they’re Saviors or not?”

“When they start shooting at you,” Rosita muttered. Though she wasn’t allowed to participate since she was still healing up from her shoulder wound, she still wanted to know what was going on. In her chair by the door, she wore a pissed off expression.

Rachel had mixed feelings about Rosita, but for now she was just being a bitch to her. “Aren’t we going to offer them surrender? If they do, they’ll be with us.”

“They ain’t us,” Daryl grunted, eyes flashing. He moodily crossed the room, the sway to his arms aggressive and belligerent. “They’re them, but they ain’t us.”

Biting back her tongue, Rachel cut her hand through the air to emphasize her point instead. “But they could be us one day. You can’t expect us to kill them all after you told us – and Carl told us – that there are bystanders.”

“No one is a bystander anymore,” Rosita spat, crossing her arms and muttering something in Spanish that Rachel didn’t understand. “You can’t sit by and let this happen.”

Feeling like Rosita was talking more about her situation, Rachel sighed, but ultimately couldn’t help herself from pointing Rosita out. “I’m not getting shot just to know who to shoot back at.”

A dark look flashed across Rosita’s face, but before she could do anything Rick moved in front of Rachel’s line of sight, blocking Rosita from view.

Looking back up at him, Rachel held up her hands in surrender. “Look, I don’t want to be the one to drop the ball and accidentally shoot a friendly.” Her hands flopped back down to her sides where she nervously rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans.

So far, she’s kept pretty quiet at the meetings, and even before the Saviors, Rachel was never a troublemaker. More like a general commenter really; the regular peanut gallery for one someone inevitably stirred shit up. In the end, she always helped, but she was more for following the crowd than taking the lead. She worked better that way. Less pressure.

Finally, Rick dipped his head at her, hands on his hips. “Well, what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Armbands?” Rachel suggested, “Like… green armbands can be for the Hilltop. Orange armbands can be for the Kingdom, because they have a tiger, y’know? But white can be for Alexandria.”

“Why white?” Daryl mumbled, as laconic as he always was here lately.

“White picket fences,” Rachel deadpanned.

......

No one said no. In fact, they already distributed out the armbands today. Looking around, Rachel was pretty proud of her work. Pushing herself off of the car she shared with Father Gabriel, Rachel walked through the crowd, catching tail ends of conversations.

“Sure are a lot of us here,” said a Latino guy with a green armband. He’s from the Hilltop. His name is Oscar, Rachel remembered.

He was talking to a woman in body-armor and an orange armband. One of Ezekiel’s personal knights with a blonde bun and preferred using a bow and arrow. “I got your back,” she assured Oscar.

Oscar was in disbelief. “Really? You just met me.”

“We all just met each other.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and passed by Aaron and Eric next. Eric looked to be muttering and fiddling with his hands. “Are you praying?” Aaron asked, amused but in a gentle, non-teasing way.

“I always meant to start,” Eric confessed ruefully. Rachel thought it was a little funny that he would choose to confess now in war time over facing the dead every day. She was sharing the car with the priest, but she wasn’t going to pray. Did no good before, won’t do any good now. “Better late than never.”

Then there were Jerry and Enid. Rachel nodded politely, and Enid looked a little flustered with Jerry shoving his arm guard at her. Rachel was sympathetic; Jerry was nice, but a little intimidating and overly protective. “Here, over your sternum.”

“No,” Enid tried to politely decline, “I’m going back with Maggie after.” Rachel remembered Carl and Enid talking about that in Alexandria. He understood, even if he was a little unhappy about it. Rachel thought they would both be fine. They weren’t out there on the warpaths.

“Dude,” Jerry said sternly, “Sternum.” Cajoling, he shook it at her, and repeated, “Duuuude.”

Finally, Enid accepted, shooting Rachel a look like what-can-you-do? Rachel smiled and turned away, joining the crowd around the leaders as they waited for them to start. She was starting to get antsy; she wanted to go home.

“Everyone’s ready,” Rachel called to Rick and Maggie, and went to stand near Jesus casually.

Maggie nodded at her before she turned back to Rick. “Are you ready? It’s one person who brought it to this.”

“One person?” Rick asked, smiling slightly.

Resting her hand on her holstered pistol, Maggie hummed. “It always starts with one person.” Gesturing with her hand to the crowd, she continued, “This did.” She clarified, “What we’re doing here now.”

“This,” Rick swept his blue gaze around them, shifting from foot to foot. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yes,” Maggie agreed, looking smug, “It isn’t. You made it like that” Her hand moved to her back, rubbing at the base of her spine.

“You up to this?” Rick turned back around on Maggie. There was an unspoken question about her pregnancy. Rachel couldn’t blame them, from where she overheard. Maggie was starting to show. To someone who didn’t know her, it almost looked like she was getting fat. But Rachel knew Maggie; she remembered Glenn. She knew what it really was.

Maggie drawled, “I got the Hilltop to stand against the Saviors. I need to be there.” The wind started to pick up, blowing a few strands in Maggie’s face. She smiled at it, green eyes twinkling at Rick. “At least for the first part.” A hand of pride rested over the slight curve of her stomach. “They say you can wage war through the second trimester,” she chuckles, “I’ve been fighting since the farm; can’t stop now.”

“How about tomorrow?” Rick suggested, only-half joking. “You been thinkin’ about what that looks like?”

Immediately, Rachel knew what they were fighting for. It was for Judith, and Maggie’s baby. So kids like Carl and Enid could just be kids – too late for Rachel to be a kid. For those Sunday family dinners, with everyone coupling up afterwards and shuffling off to their suburban homes with granite countertops, swinging on their porch as they listened to the crickets and counted the infinite stars.

Something like jealousy squirmed in Rachel’s stomach. She’d been alone since near the beginning and ended up here. She was with people, surrounded by good people, but around them all she was still alone. There wasn’t time to worry about any of that now. That could come after the war.

“Yes, I have,” Maggie answered Rick’s question. “I don’t know if I can wait for it.”

“One more fight.”

“And I’m gonna be there,” Maggie repeated, “At least for the first part.”

Ezekiel moved through the crowd, practically gliding with kingly strides and a regal lift of his chin. Rachel shifted to let him pass, flitting her eyes up and down. He was pretty hot; had a nice ass. Maybe she could stay in the Kingdom after the war.

“I’m told the Hilltop lost their doctor,” Ezekiel said sympathetically in his accented voice, “An obstetrician, no less. We have a doctor in the Kingdom, a woman of talent. Join us.”

From where he hovered behind Maggie, Jesus answered for her, “We’ll get ours back.”

Good-naturedly, Ezekiel laughed and it warmed Rachel’s gut. “Yes, Jesus. Yes, you will. As sure as the day defeats the night. And on this day, we begin to reshape this world for your child and the children to come.”

Rachel smiled, watching Ezekiel climb on top of the pick-up truck where there were going to make their pronouncements.

Rick shifted his gun in hands, dragging Rachel’s attention back to him. “Let’s get started.” Maggie let out a sigh, and Rick placed a comforting hand on her arm while the others moved away. “What? Hilltop’s lucky to have you.”

Shaking her head, Maggie put her own hand on Rick’s arm once he started to withdraw. “You showed me how to be someone worth following.”

“Good.” Rick leaned in close, but Rachel could still hear them. “After this, I’m following you.”

Rick helped Maggie climb into the truck, and then it was just the three community leaders up there while everyone else gathered around. Rick spoke first, of course. Craning her neck up to look at them since she was closest to the truck, Rachel listened.

“When I first met him,” Rick began, “Jesus said that my world was gonna get a whole lot bigger. Well, we found that world. We found each other.”

Glancing around, Rachel saw Aaron grab Eric’s hand. A few others did similar actions, bumping shoulders and sharing secretive smiles. Looking around her, in the crowd, she was isolated, but it was self-imposed. It’s stupid to get attached to people who were already dead. She tried to not let that bother her, instead focusing back on Rick’s speech.

“That ‘bigger world’ is ours by right.” Rachel flinched. From the beginning, they made their deal to kill Saviors to protect the Hilltop – to kill people they weren’t even sure of. For a fucking goat – or cow, whatever it was – they never got. It wasn’t right. It made sense why they came. But to assume that they were all justified in this when the Kingdom only had tribute like ten lousy melons? None of this made sense to her.

“That we’ve come together for it, all of us it’s that much more true – it’s ours by right. Any person who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground it’s their right, too. But those who use and take and kill to carve out the world and make it theirs alone – we end them.” She shivered at the finality, remembering the Rick Grimes, who came to Alexandria all feral and wild with his beard. He’d drench himself in blood and kill with bear hands and use his teeth just like the walkers did. She saw hints of that man again, eclipsed by this one. Fear wracked through her body.

“We don’t celebrate it.” Well, that sounded good.

“We don’t have shame about it, either.” Annoyed, Rachel pressed her lips into a flat line.

“There’s only one person who has to die and I will kill him myself. I will. I will.” Rachel pictured the man in question – the man she saw around Alexandria before, in his black leather jacket and red scarf and silver beard until he shaved that off. He was handsome, but dangerous. A lot like Rick Grimes. Rachel could see it being one or the other, but now it was a coin toss. She wanted to believe in Alexandria… but she wasn’t sure of it.

“But if it’s the others the others who prop him up, stand by his side, even those who just look the other way – so be it. Then we keep making the world bigger. Together,” Rick finished, and stepped back, allowing Ezekiel to take the stage.

King Ezekiel stepped forward and repeated, “Together! Bound forever!” Faint echoes of Rachel’s childhood rang through her head, remembering her family attending Church on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. He sounded just like those men did.

“To quote the Bard,” Ezekiel said playfully, the smile reaching up to his eyes as if he were sunshine embodied, “‘For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.’” He tossed a look at Rick and then another fond one at Maggie. “For she today my sister.”

A roar ripped through the air and Rachel nearly died on the spot. She had forgotten that Ezekiel brought his tiger, Shiva. What man had a tiger? How the fuck did that thing eat?

Maggie took that as her opportunity to speak. “We practiced. We’ve been through it over and over again.” Rachel already liked her pronouncement better, it being less about motivation and more about practicality. “We all know the plan doesn’t end this morning. That we may have to live in uncertainty for days, maybe more. That we have to keep our faith in each other.”

Once again glancing around her, Rachel counted her arm bands. They were pretty equally distributed. Looking up again, she was so proud that even the leaders wore theirs. She still had a place here, even if it was a thankless place, a role with no discernable voice.

“If we can hold on to that with everything we have, the future is ours. The world is ours!”

“If we start tomorrow,” Rick jumped back in, “right now with everything we’ve beaten, everything we’ve endured, everything we’ve risen above, everything we’ve become If we start tomorrow right now no matter what comes next we’ve won. We’ve already won!”

A cheer sprang up, fists in the air, and Shiva roared again. Rachel shouted, too, but in her stomach was that uncertainty Maggie had mentioned. She didn’t like that feeling at all.

.....

Riding shotgun in Father Gabriel’s car, Rachel checked and double checked that her pistol was loaded. There were driving right up to the Sanctuary’s gates, the guards picked off by Morgan’s snipers thanks to Dwight’s signal. As they approached, the low hum of the walkers that made up the perimeter was discernable to a low growl. They became more frenzied, yanking hard against their chains at the cars. It wasn’t the walkers that made Rachel’s heart beat out of rhythm.

The cars were parked. They filed out in silence, taking up their positions as practiced and planned. Safeties were switched off and guns cocked. Rick raised his hand and sent up the symbol. As one they raised their guns into the air and fired four distinct shots. It was almost impressive. Almost.

Now they played the waiting game, but they did not have to wait for long. Negan and a string of his lieutenants neatly exited their Sanctuary, lining up for perfect target practice. “Well shit,” Negan called out to them in greeting, “I’m sorry. I was in a meeting.”

Even though Rachel had seen Negan before in Alexandria three times, each time she saw him he was always magnificent. She couldn’t even remember that look of fear on his face from Ezekiel’s tiger when she was looking at him now. Here he was proud, smug, arrogant. Everything that makes men infuriatingly handsome. The lilt to his posture, the rough texture of his voice she could practically feel thrumming through her chest, and his damn smile. There songs about smiles like that, but Rachel didn’t want to write them. What was the point when she had never seen a smile like that before.

“I see you got your little mud flaps with you,” Negan gestured with Lucille, drawing a tight circle in the air. “So, I’m not exactly feelin’ a reason for us to try throwin’ lead at each other.” At least he could be reasoned with. “I care about my people,” he declared, almost sarcastically, hand over his chest. “I don’t want to just march them into the line of fire because I wanna play ‘my dick is bigger than yours.’ It is. We both know it.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Rachel’s eyes shifted back and forth between Rick and Negan. This was going to be good. Now she was glad she came.

“But I’m also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn’t. I’m certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit like you’re about to! So, Rick, what the hell can I do for you?”

Seeming to ignore him, Rick raised his hand and pointed at the lieutenants. “Dwight,” he named, “Your name’s Simon. You’re Gavin. And you?”

The last lieutenant was a girl, more muscled that Dwight and Gavin. Rachel was sure that that woman could crush her like a grape, and probably give Simon a run for his money. “Regina,” she told him.

“Rick,” Eugene said – and Rachel had forgotten about Eugene. Guilt threaded through her veins. “I’d feel remiss if –”

“No!” Rick interrupted, as stern as an unforgiving father to Rachel’s ears, “I know who you are.” To the others, he continued, “Listen, you five. The Saviors inside, all of you have a chance to survive here – to survive this. You all can live if you surrender.” He paused, and shifted his stance, trying to appear reasonable. “Can’t guarantee it any time but now. Right now.”

Eyes roving over the line of lieutenants, Rachel didn’t see many considering it except Gavin. She knew Dwight would – and Eugene because he was a pacifist. But Simon and Regina, the two most intimidating of the bunch? Rachel didn’t like their odds.

But Negan liked the odds just fine, looking just amused at the whole situation. “So, they surrender and you and your little piss patrol don’t kill them. That sounds like a good deal! What about me, Rick?”

“I told you. Twice.” Rick shouted, “You know what’s going to happen.”

“I do,” Negan agreed, “I do know what’s gonna happen. You don’t. You have no idea the shit that’s about to go down. Let me ask you something, Rick – do you think you have the numbers for this fight? You don’t.”

He was right. Rachel knew he was right. “Simon?” Negan called, and who else poked their nose out of the Sanctuary but Gregory, the Hilltop’s missing but not missed leader.

A ripple ran through the Alliance, and Rachel turned her head, barely catching Jesus’ sigh. “Of course, that’s where he went.”

Wrapping his arm around Gregory, Rachel thought he might as well have just fisted up Gregory’s ass right there considering what came next out of Gregory’s mouth. “What do you have to say to Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?” Negan prompted with a shit-eating grin.

“The Hilltop stand with Negan and the Saviors,” Gregory parroted, “Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or who supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary or any of the Saviors, for that matter – they will no longer be welcome in the colony.”

“And?” Negan said.

“Their families will be thrown out and will be left to fend for themselves.”

“And?”

“Go home now!” Gregory said, gathering up all his courage and balls to do so, “or you won’t have a home to go back to!”

Scoffing, Rachel rolled her eyes and looked back at the people with green armbands. Gregory didn’t have the authority to carry that out; and it was doubtful that the Saviors would keep their word now. “You do what you need to do,” Maggie told them.

Jesus just shrugged. “All I have at the Hilltop are a bunch of books and an old lobster bib.”

Rachel tried not to focus on the lobster part, instead waiting for someone to leave. She wouldn’t blame them for it. But no one ever did.

“You heard the man,” Negan’s voice rang out and Rachel’s eyes were dragged back to him. “Go back to separating wheat and shit, or whatever the hell it is you people do.”

With a small chuckle, Maggie called back tauntingly, “Doesn’t look like anyone’s goin’, does it?”

Flustered, Gregory tried again. “The Hilltop stand with –”

“The Hilltop stands with Maggie!” Jesus interrupted, and there was a ripple of agreement.

Smiling slightly, Rachel looked back up just in time to see Negan step away in disappoint and have Simon stride towards Gregory like a predator. “I feel like I invested a lot in you.” His finger jabbed in Gregory’s chest, and Rachel was almost giggling. “And I am very, VERY disappointed.”

With a hard shove, Gregory went toppling down the stairs; and Rachel tried her damnedest not to laugh out loud. No one moved to help him. None of the Saviors so much as twitched except for Eugene, but Eugene got sick at any sight of violence. No one on Rachel’s side showed any sympathy either. It almost felt good. Rachel could’ve kissed the brawny mustachioed fuck right there.

Suddenly, there was an explosion in the distance, and a roar of upcoming walkers. Time was running short, and Negan knew it. “Sounds like shit is goin’ down, Rick.”

“You ‘lieutenants’,” Rick half-way sneered, still trying to appear reasonable, “you’re gonna have to make up your minds.”

“Maybe we can take a time-out here,” Gavin suggested, the one Rachel thought would be reasonable.

“No!” Rick and Negan said simultaneously, and Rick continued, “This has to happen now. This is the only way.”

The background noise of the walker hoard on its way was only getting louder. Rachel’s brown eyes flashed back and forth between Rick and Negan. Both men were too damn stubborn and they needed to hurry the hell up. She didn’t want to be eaten alive.

“You’re gonna make me count?” Rick’s voice rang out, brimming with amusement. It seemed like only Negan was picking up on the joke. “Okay,” he chuffed and chuckled, “Okay. I’m counting. Ten!”

Negan smiled wider.

“Nine!”

They weren’t doing anything.

“Eight!”

Rachel’s anxiety was rising.

“Seven!”

Rick cocked his weapon, “Fuck it!” And he started shooting. Immediately, everyone else flew into action. Rachel ducked behind the metal slab of the armored car while everyone else shot the windows. The sound of glass shattering was only rivaled by the walkers’ perpetual moans and the encroaching sound of more explosions.

She wasn’t ready for this. Rachel thought that she would’ve been, but she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make herself fire a single shot. In somewhat of a daze, she watched as the others climbed back into their vehicles. Maggie was one of the first ones to leave, naturally, given her condition. The gate was rammed, horn honking; Rachel barely noticed. Her eyes were glued to the distant hoard that closed the distance between them. Where was Gabriel?

Ducking and shuffling, Rachel made her way to Gabriel, where he was yanking on Rick’s arm, urging him to stop. Rick stopped only long enough to take a picture – seriously? To take a fucking picture? – and then he was in his car.

“Gabriel! We have to go now!” Rachel shoved him towards the car. She couldn’t drive – didn’t know before, since she didn’t need to having lived in the city – and she didn’t plan to start in a high-pressure situation where she’d just flip the car or something stupid like that.

“But,” Gabriel stuttered and pointed back at the Sanctuary, “we can’t just leave him!”

Looking back over her shoulder, Rachel tried to see what Gabriel was looking at. It couldn’t have been Negan, well, that would be handy to have Negan as a hostage. But no. It was Gregory, shaking like a leaf and looking equally confused and terrified. Some of the walkers were knocked loose from the gates by the RV, and wandered toward him with outstretched arms, hungry maws gaped wide to bear ugly teeth.

She knew Gabriel wouldn’t leave him. “Fuck, I can’t believe you, man,” Rachel groaned, charging through the crowd to go get Gregory, “You grew a fucking backbone against the dead now for the babies and the fucking elderly? Un-fucking-believable.”

Bullets flew, and Rachel was forced to drag Gregory’s dumbass behind a concrete barricade. Gabriel had followed her, foolishly enough. Who’s more of the fool? The fool or the fool who follows him? Why was she thinking of Star Wars right now?

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Gabriel assured Gregory – unnecessarily, in Rachel’s opinion. “We just have to wait for our moment.” Scoping out their escape options, she tried not to think about the burn on her side. She didn’t even dare look at it or touch it.

“Thank you, Father,” wheezed Gregory with genuine gratefulness.

“Thank God,” Gabriel corrected.

“Sure, whatever,” Gregory snapped, all gratefulness dissipated.

“You should be thanking me, you stupid asshole.” Rachel stabbed a walker that got too close and shoved it over the concrete barricade. A knife and a pistol – and Gabriel’s pistol, but she didn’t think he had a knife. She didn’t trust Gregory with either of them.

While her back was turned and handling another walker, she saw Gregory make a mad dash for their car out of the corner of her eye. “Gabriel, go with him!”

“What about you?”

“Go now before he leaves your ass behind!”

.....

Gabriel actually left. Rachel tried not to think about it as she heard the tires squeal, instead focusing on just stabbing as many of the walkers as she could. The burn in her side was worse and had spread to her lower back. She was getting tired. Before she could get overwhelmed, she ran. First, she ran to one of the Sanctuary doors, but she thought better of it. They’d tear her apart. Then she ran to the trailer.

Miraculously, it was unlocked, and she dashed inside without a second thought, all those walkers hot on her tail. She slammed the door shut behind her and when she turned back around – there was Negan.

He was… masturbating. His jeans were shoved down past his thighs, around his knees, and his boxers were, too. And his erection was in his hand, ass on the ground because the trailer was bare of chairs or furniture of any kind. It was dark, too dark to really see any details on his body since he was swathed in shadows, but that didn’t matter because soon he was yanking his pants up.

“Seriously?” Rachel found herself scoffing, all the fight gone from her. “Sitting around with your dick in your hand? You might as well have had your thumb up your ass, too.”

On his feet now, Negan lifted Lucille but she held up her pistol at him. “No, I don’t think so.”

He took a step back, but didn’t back off completely. They stood like that for a tense moment before Rachel sighed and handed him the gun. Negan hesitated for only a moment before he took it and checked the chamber. “You didn’t fire a fucking shot?”

“Not even at your goddamn windows.”

Squinting at her suspiciously, Negan tucked the gun in the back of his pants. Rachel tried not to picture exactly what his dick – still visibly hard – looked like under his clothes. He twirled Lucille in hand. “Some might call that fucking cowardice.”

“I don’t give a shit what you call it,” Rachel hobbled away from the door and slumped down on her ass, back against the wall. The pain was too much to ignore anymore. “So, are you going to shoot me or not?”

Negan surprised her by not killing her. “I don’t see the need to. You didn’t fucking shoot me first.” Peering down at her critically, Negan listed to the right, favoring one leg. “You look like you’re about to fucking bleed out anyway. Why should I waste the ammo? In fact, why don’t I just pitch your ass outside? Those dead fuckers seem mighty fucking peckish.”

Groaning, Rachel placed a protective hand over her side. Her blood was warm and sticky, and it leaked between her fingers. “I think they’d prefer some white meat first,” she gritted between her teeth. She was being deliberately reckless, but she figured, why bother to act meek when there was no point. They were going to die. It’s why she gave Negan the gun. If he had shot her, at least it would’ve been quick.

The longer she sat there, though, the more she wondered if it was delirium. She had yet to look higher than the obvious bulge in his pants, and she wondered if she was bleeding from her side, then why was she so wet between her legs. The heat was getting to her. It was hot in here, just a tin can baking in the sun. They were being cooked for the dead to consume. Both she and Negan were already dead.

Uncharacteristically – well for all the short interactions she’s had for him – silent, Negan stared down at her. She only knew he was staring because she could feel the weight of his gaze, crushing her and as her strength was sapped away with every pulse of blood. “Well, shit, beautiful,” Negan grunted, and then he was moving slow around the trailer, though Rachel couldn’t get her eyes to focus on him. “Let me fix you up, darlin’. No need for you to fucking suffer.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachel hissed, but allowed him to situate her heavy limbs.

With gentle fingers, Negan peeled her bloody shirt away from the wound and pushed it up her body. Her hands were limp at her side, cold and tingling. He was kneeling between her legs, leaning close to inspect the bloody mess in the dim light that came through the window blinds. “There were a few meager ass supplies in here. I’m just gonna disinfect and wrap you up nice as a dick in a condom.”

That chuffed a laugh out of her but it hurt to do that so she trailed off. Like her, Negan was sweating up a storm, but he didn’t smell bad at all. Negan smelled wonderful, spicy and clean. All she could think about was how she walked in on him jerking off, and how maybe if she arrived a tad too late she might have been sprayed with his release. She shifted around restlessly, self-conscious about her arousal – how she could be aroused now she didn’t know – and then she groaned again, the pain in her side sharpening in intensity.

“Easy fucking does it, tiger,” Negan told her and placed a steadying hand on her other hip. “I’m almost finished up.”

Dragging her eyes up from the ugly carpet, Rachel tried to focus on his face. It was lined with wrinkles, not many, mainly laugh lines rather than crow’s feet. His five o’clock shadow was a little more than that, maybe a nine o’clock shadow. Even with the terrible lighting, each and every strand of silver shined like stars.

Stars.

Rachel would like to see stars again.

And then his eyes. They were just beautiful. Those were the real stars. Nervous that she was about to say something stupid, Rachel asked a question instead. “Where’d you find these supplies again?”

“One of the fucking cupboards,” Negan answered easily enough, still focused on her wound. She could barely feel his touch and prods, which was good or she’d be cursing up a storm. Her pain threshold was pitifully low for this world’s standards. Oh well.

“Why’d you need them? What happened to you?”

“Rick the fucking Prick got a lucky fucking shot in,” Negan replied, “Well. Almost fucking lucky. I thought he shot my god damn leg cause it hurt like a bitch, but he missed. I must have hurt it when I toppled over the fucking railing and landed on my hip.”

“Too bad you didn’t bust it.”

“Yeah, too fucking bad for you, beautiful.”

Rachel was thankful that her complexion couldn’t blush that dark and that the light didn’t reach her face. “Too fucking bad Rick didn’t shoot you either, or I could’ve just been home by now.”

Negan hummed high in his throat. “Like I said, he fucking missed. My Saviors wouldn’t have missed.”

“They missed me,” Rachel corrected him, “they didn’t shoot me dead.”

“Mhm, too fucking bad. It’s just a graze. I’ll how to fucking train them on that.” His fingers brushed over the revealed and uninjured skin of her belly, and Rachel shivered.

She recovered by doing what she always did – bitch. “Just a graze? Fuck, it hurts more than that.”

Finally, Negan looked up at her, and Rachel swore that the temperature in the room jacked up a bit. “Mm, yeah. Just a graze, and if you’re careful, it won’t bleed too fucking much. Nothing strenuous.”

“Thank you, Dr. Negan, for telling me that I can’t leave,” Rachel snarked, and then went to pull her shirt back down.

Negan’s hand on her wrist stopped her. “Best not do that, darlin’, or you’ll get the wound re-infected. Let it fucking breathe.”

Lifting her chin, Rachel was nose to nose with Negan, big bad dick of the Sanctuary. She knew he could kill her before she could kill him, but she was much more interested in something else. “How do you expect me to do that when you won’t even let me breathe?”

Smiling softly, Negan pulled back in concession, resettling himself. He plopped his flat ass down beside her, leaning back against the wall to mirror her posture. “What’s your name? Or am I gonna have to keep calling you ‘beautiful’?”

“Rachel.”

“Rachel,” Negan repeated, and he said it like it was a sin. “Nice to fucking meet you. I’m Negan.”

“No fucking shit.”

“Shh,” he hushed, indicating the dead outside. Glancing over at his leather index finger held to his lips, Rachel closed her mouth with a click of her teeth and looked away. After that they were silent, listening to the roar of the hoard.

....

At some point, she must’ve fallen asleep, even through the pain. Adrenaline exhaustion probably, and deceptively lured to sleep by the white noise generated by the walkers outside. It was Negan who woke her when he gently nudged her with his shoulder.

“Hey, beautiful, wake the fuck up. You’re drooling on me.”

With a start, Rachel jerked her head up, swiping the drool from the corners of her mouth. “Shit, I didn’t snore, did I?”

“Nah, I could barely hear it over those dead fucks outside.” Negan rolled his shoulders, the leather of his jacket crinkling.

Sneaking a glance, Rachel did see some drool shining on his shoulder. She looked away, and her gaze dropped to his lap. The erection was gone, and Rachel found it strange that she missed it. She could’ve really helped him out with that and wouldn’t have minded at all. He could scratch her back, and she’d scratch his. At least it would be a better way of passing the time than sleeping.

Using the back of her hand, Rachel wiped away the sweat collected on her forehead. “You think it cleared up some out there?”

“Only sounds like they fucking gave up on the trailer, but I’m sure those dead fucks you and your people called in are still hanging out.”

“Do you want me to apologize? Because I’m not gonna do that.”

“Too fucking bad. I enjoy a good ass kissing now and then.”

“Fat chance of that, slim.”

“How about a ‘thank you’ then, Rachel?” Negan gently laid his arm across her shoulder so that he could grab her chin and direct her gaze to him. So far, she had been studiously avoiding looking at him, but he wasn’t having that anymore. “I fixed you up out of the fucking goodness of my heart, because I fucking like fixing broken things. And you never even thanked me! You just fell asleep on me, something I am most certainly not fucking used to. So, how about some gratitude instead of some fucking groveling, Rachel?”

They were close, their sides nearly pressed together if it weren’t for the fact that that was Rachel’s wounded side. Now with his leather-clad fingers gently curved around her jaw, her lips smooshing into a pout from his grip, it was like she was begging for her kiss. Even after her nap, the throb between Rachel’s legs hadn’t gone away.

Raising an eyebrow at her, Negan made it clear that he wasn’t going to let her go until she said something.

Backed in a corner, Rachel stifled in her whine and swallowed her pride. “Thanks for your help.”

“And?”

Searching his hazel gaze, Rachel knew he was deadly serious. Why was she so aroused by this? “Thank you for your mercy.”

“Mm, that’ll do for now.” He released her chin but didn’t remove his arm. Chuckling softly, Negan hummed, seemingly too hot and too tired to keep talking. His restless legs shifted again, evoking a soft grunt from him for the effort of it. Keeping her legs crossed beneath her, Rachel watched him man-spread, his long, long legs stretching out in front of them, boots thumping on the floor.

Together they sat in companionable silence, until Rachel couldn’t stop her rampant curiosity anymore. “When I came in here…” she trailed off.

“Yes?”

“When I came in here, you were masturbating?”

Snorting, Negan answered blithely, “Fuck yeah, I was.”

“Why?”

“Because, beautiful,” he glanced at her and corrected himself, “Because, Rachel, I almost died getting shot to hell by Rick motherfucking Grimes. I hobble my ass in here and find some supplies, fully fucking prepared to sew my leg shut. I yank down my pants and I’m not bleeding, but lo in behold there is my dick hard as a rock. I need to calm down, so I thought I’d fucking rub one out.”

To himself, he laughed softly, and Rachel’s cheeks heated up at the low rumble. “Hell, nearly dying just gets me so fucking excited and hard. Doesn’t it do that to you, beautiful?”

Shit, Rachel almost half-expected him to say that he could smell her dripping pussy from here. Thankful that she couldn’t blush, Rachel ducked her head and scrubbed her blunt fingertips through her short hair nervously. Well, they were going to die. Might as well have fun. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Is that fucking right?” Negan questioned, and he shifted so that his body could face her more. “You don’t mind if I fucking check that theory, now do you, beautiful?” He brought his ungloved hand down to her thigh and spread her further open for him.

She couldn’t breathe, but she watched as his long fingers squeezed her jean-clad thigh, massaged it, and then crept his fingers toward the seam of her jeans. His index finger pressed and dragged up the line, digging the rough material into her slit. He reached the zipper and pulled it down, and then snuck his hand inside until he cupped her over her damp panties.

“Mmm, you may not be hard, but you are just fucking soaked, Rachel,” Negan purred in her ear, applying just enough pressure to tease, but not to offer any relief. “So fucking excited, and just for me, beautiful? Christ.”

Rachel was shaking, holding her breath. She said before that she wouldn’t apologize, but now she wasn’t sure she was above begging. He’d probably love that, her groveling. Well, there was definitely a way she could show appreciation on her knees. Didn’t he mention something about kissing ass, too? Oh, but she was in trouble.

Nibbling on her earlobe, Negan multitasked by tapping her clit over panties and his other hand reached down and cupped one of her breasts, massaging through the fabric. “Let me just cut right to the chase with you, sugar. I know you want to fuck me. I can fucking see it in your god damn hungry eyes, Rachel. I know you want me and you god damn know that I want you. So how about a fuck, and we keep this just between us?” He blew into the shell of her ear. “Not even the damn dead have to know.”

Turning, Rachel caught his mouth in a kiss, for once running her mouth in a way that involve the spoken word. Pleased, Negan hummed and purred, switching the dominance around until he was the one capturing her bottom lip over and over again. He sucked it, worried it with his teeth and then soothed the bites with a hypnotic flick of his tongue.

Her hands crashed into his hair, pulling and fisting mindlessly; but his hands were diligent. Rachel’s jeans were unbuttoned in a flash and then he was slipping under her panties to rub tight circles around her clit. Bucking up into his hand, Rachel moaned into his open mouth only for him to swallow it all up. This had to be between them; the dead couldn’t know. No one could.

“Think you can keep fucking quiet for me, Rachel?” Negan cut his fingers through her pussy lips, diving down through the wetness until he reached the heart of it. Without waiting for her answer, he slid first his index finger inside and curled, and then added a second and scissored her open.

Jaw dropping open, Rachel’s eyes rolled to the back of her head until only the whites were flashing at him. “Fuck,” she moaned, but she moaned low. “Come on, Negan, just fuck me.”

“Patience,” Negan crooned, pressing kisses up and down her jaw as his fingers searched for her sweet spot. She gasped, the whoosh of air cracking, when he found it. “We’ve got all the fucking time in the world, darlin’. Besides, where the fuck else do you gotta be? There’s nowhere to go. You’re stuck with me.”

Over and over, he curled his fingers into her until Rachel’s thighs were quaking. She came much sooner than she thought she would after he added a thumb mushing on her clit. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been a while for her. Her last partner had been pre-apocalypse, someone just as inexperienced as she was. Negan was a far cry from inexperience, though.

By the time, Rachel came down from her high, Negan had already dragged himself away until he was lying between her thighs. “Lift your hips for me,” he ordered, and she did. Her jeans were stripped away and tossed aside like yesterday’s laundry, which they really were. But her panties received better treatment. He pressed his nose to the visibly damp fabric and inhaled. Panting heavily, Rachel watched, a little wide eyed.

“I hope you fucking taste as good as you fucking smell, Rachel,” Negan growled and then sucked at her panties, white teeth flashing in the dark alongside his hazel eyes. “Mm, even fucking better.” His tongue licked and sucked at the panties, and Rachel wondered if that’s how it looked when he was kissing her. In front of her face, her pussy throbbed and his eyes dropped down to it, darkening with lust.

Licking her lips, Rachel crooned low in her throat, “Don’t you think you better double-check your theory? Taste me straight from the source?” Daringly, she reached down and spread her labia lips open for his heated gaze. Even in the suffocatingly hot trailer, the air was blessedly cool on her sensitive flesh. Fresh from an orgasm, and she was still aching for more.

“Oh, you want me to eat your pussy out, huh, Rachel?” Negan’s teeth were bared in a dangerous smile. “I bet I could do it a helluva lot better than those dead fuckers, huh?” The smile dropped away, as did the teasing light from his eyes, and Negan’s voice was rough when he told her, “Fucking touch yourself for me. I wanna see you get yourself off.”

Biting her swollen bottom lip, Rachel did as he asked. This part was easy, or so she thought. Touching herself was something she was used to. These past few years at the end of the world have brought her very close to her hands.

With practiced ease, she slid two of her fingers inside, and while Negan just had his fingers buried in her, it didn’t feel nearly as good since his fingers were so much longer and thicker. As she fucked herself with her fingers, she used the other hand to pluck at her clit, alternating between rubbing and pressing down hard.

Under Negan’s gaze, though, and straight from her orgasm, every sensation was heightened. Again, Rachel brought herself to completion all too quickly, but how could she not with her gaze riveted on Negan’s handsome face. He didn’t once look up at her, his own eyes glued to her pussy and tongue flicking out over his bottom lip at random intervals. The sounds her wet pussy was making was the only thing heard other than their shallow breathing that was too loud in Rachel’s ears. It all blocked out the noise of the outside, and she loved it – needed it, in fact.

While she recovered, Negan tucked her used, dirty panties in the inner breast pocket of his leather jacket. Then he hooked his hands around her bare upper thighs and squeezed so hard it hurt. Before she could protest, he yanked her down and buried his bearded face in her pussy. Eyes on the ceiling, mouth wide open, all Rachel could do was dig her fingers in the rough carpet and hold on for the ride.

Negan’s licks were rough, the pressure always hard. He was greedy, slurping messily and loudly – so obscene – while he tried to literally drink every drop of arousal that had erupted from her pussy in her two orgasms. The texture of his facial hair was rough, the bristles scratching and itching up a storm. She might as well have been dragging her pussy over the carpet, but the burn of it drove her pleasure up higher. Thanks to the tip of his nose rubbing on her clit, his tongue stuck in her pussy as far as it could go, Rachel was coming again in no time. 

She was overwhelmed with the pleasure. Three times was a new record for her since it usually took her so long to come on her own. Even with her girlfriend, the most they went together was two before they both got too tired and their nerves overwrought to where it wasn’t pleasurable anymore. With Negan, there was no such thing as too much. It was only ever not enough. More, she wanted more.

Negan laughed, the sound dark and arousing.

Damn, had she said that out loud?

“Don’t worry, Rachel, I’m not finished fucking you yet.”

Shit, she had said that out loud.

Rearing up on his knees, Negan busied himself with unbuckling his many belts in his haste to push down his pants. Rachel stared up into his face, the moisture from pussy coating his beard. It caused the lower half of his face to shine, and his lips were glossy as if he were wearing lip gloss. His tongue slithered out and swiped over his lips and the shininess of her arousal was replaced with his saliva. She was sure that he’d have evidence of her climaxes buried in his deep dimples until they were both corpses.

“I’m gonna fuck you fucking rough, and I’m going to make you come again and again and a-fucking-gain until I’m ready to blow my goddamn load in you,” he informed her as he settled his slender hips at the apex of her thighs. His dick was jutting straight out, tip weeping and red, and he slid it between her pussy lips achingly slow.

Arching her back, Rachel tried to catch it so it could slip inside of her, but Negan grabbed a hold of her throat and pressed the palm of his hand down on her stomach, effectively pinning her to the carpeted floor. “Oh, no, darlin’ Rachel. I’m the one who’s gonna be fucking you. Not the other way around.” Again, Negan rutted his dick between her lips, slicking himself up and teasing her.

Wrapping her hands around the wrist of the hand that held her throat, Rachel did actually whine this time. “Please, Negan, please. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Her hips tilted and tracked the motions of his lazy thrusts, edging her further and closer to another orgasm.

From above, Negan watched with a sinister grin. “Eager little thing, I fucking like that.” He gave her throat a squeeze until she gasped, and then he was buried up to the hilt. His high balls slapped against her ass, getting sticky from her secreted juices. Rachel whimpered. Negan drove into her again.

This pattern repeated over and over. Each time, Negan would squeeze her throat a little harder. It was already hard enough to breath because of the heat, but now Rachel was sure that she was dying. Negan was killing her slowly, and it felt so good. With every powerful thrust, he grunted and fresh pain returned to her bullet wound. He had told her to do nothing strenuous, and even as she was lying back and allowing herself to get fucked, she was sure she was going to make it bleed again. It would be worth it.

If she could die right now just by bleeding out, it would be bliss because of the way Negan’s cock perfectly fit into her pussy. He knew how to hit every spot, when to brush it and when to rub. The hand on her stomach slipped down, fingertips combing through her small bush to the clit again as he played with it almost idly.

There was pleasure. The heat in the room was nothing compared to the high intensity of lava concentrated in her lower belly. Her orgasms from before felt like only echoes of what was building up inside her now. Every stroke was good, deep, and purposeful. Every little stroke over her clit just enough to push her closer to tumbling over, to build her bliss higher for her to take the fall.

There was pain, too. His dick was so big that it stung. Her walls ached to fit him, stretched impossibly wide and tight around him. He could crush her windpipe in an instant, but as it was she could barely wheeze. There was no way that any of the walkers could hear her now.

Then the sheer intensity of it was almost too much. Negan’s hips were so bony that when he slapped into her, she was sure her inner thighs would have bruises.

In addition to her bullet wound screaming at her to stop, Rachel’s ass itched against the rough carpet. She’d have carpet burn from his beard and the damn floor, and her ass would be red as she were spanked. Her pussy was embarrassingly wet, and the rest of her body was soaked in sweat; and she highly suspected that she’d drip blood all over the carpet in addition to her own come. Rachel would be surprised if when she got up it didn’t look like a murder crime scene where she had been lying.

But she loved the sting as much as she did the thrum. Picking her head up off the ground, Rachel looked down and watched Negan fuck her. With every inward thrust there was a greedy squelch of her pussy attempting to devour him, to trap him inside her like they were inside this trailer. With every withdraw of his dick there was a pop like a cocker from the stop, drawing more and more wetness out of Rachel. She’d die of dehydration at this point.

Allowing her head to drop back to the floor with a thump, Rachel choked out in a rasp, “Negan, I’m going to come.” Her head thrashed from side to side, eyes squeezed shut as the concentrated on the feeling of it. She was desperate to memorize this, cherish the memory, and never let it go until she died.

Reaching his hand up, Negan pushed her shirt over her breasts and slapped at her nipple. “And?”

Eyes flying open, Rachel stared up at Negan in shock. He locked his gaze with hers and pinched her nipple. Negan repeated himself. “And?”

A noise like pain escaped her mouth, and it was louder than anything else she released so far. “I’m coming for you.”

He twisted her nipple one last time before he released it and viciously attacked the other in a similar treatment. Negan’s pace increased, as did the intensity. He had been holding back on her. “Fucking and?”

“Come with me!” She cried out, clamping down hard on his dick. “Come inside me. Fuck me!”

“There’s my fucking dirty girl, Rachel!” Negan cheered and settled his hands on her shoulders so she wouldn’t slide across the floor and slam the top of her head against the trailer wall. His last remaining thrusts were erratic in pattern, but so hard that Rachel thought she might split in half and melt into the floor as nothing but jelly and juices.

It prolonged her orgasm, wringing out every drop of pleasure it could get from her, and it wasn’t until she was in her aftershocks that Negan started to spew rope after thick, hot rope of come inside her. Rachel’s fluttering walls milked him dry and drew the come deeper inside until it felt like she was stuffed full and filled to the brim.

She gathered herself, noting every change to her body, before she looked up at Negan who was still hovering above her. His shoulders heaved, arms shook, but he was smiling. Rachel tilted up for a kiss, and it was languid, stoking the leftover flames of what they just had in preparation for another round.

“How are you still hard?”

“I’ve got a big fucking load saved up for you, Rachel.”

“Lay it on me, Negan.”

They started again.

......

The rest of their time spent in the trailer alternated between fucking and sleeping. It was the best distraction from their discomforts, such as hunger or fear of death. They tried their best to keep it silent and keep things fresh. Negan and Rachel alternated positions, speed, intensity, pace. They were filthier now than they were before they were inside the trailer. If they ever made it out, the trailer should be burned down rather than cleaned up again because there would just be no way.

In one of their more rigorous sessions where Negan was forcing Rachel to ride him at breakneck speed by spanking her repeatedly, they finally got the walkers’ attention. It was like the sound of skin slapping against skin was the dinner bell for them. The walkers frenzied and one ambitious walker managed to smash through the thin wood of the trailer wall. With one unceremonious shove, Negan pushed Rachel off his dick, snatched up Lucille where she had been abandoned on the floor, and quickly dispatched the walker.

Breathing heavily in the air that was thick with the musk of sex, they stared at the truly lifeless, brainless corpse for a while before Rachel finally made the suggestion. “We can cover ourselves with its nasty guts,” she began, “and walk out of here like it’s nothing.”

“You going to fucking come to the Sanctuary with me? We could get our doctor to look at your side.”

Rachel pinned Negan with a look. “That doctor belongs to the Hilltop.”

Negan stared at her blankly, and then rubbed a hand through his short facial hair with frustration. “Fuck. We have to go back to the way things fucking were, don’t we?”

“It’s like you said,” Rachel said, refusing to look at his naked body or it would change her mind. She tugged on her clothes, ignoring the tackiness of his come dried between her legs. “Not even the dead have to know.”

With an inelegant snort, Negan followed her lead. He didn’t try to change her mind, and for that, Rachel was grateful.

By the time they were dressed in walker guts, Rachel knew she couldn’t go with him. She wouldn’t let herself be a pawn in the war. She could get out, make her way through the crowd no problem. Morgan’s snipers wouldn’t dare shoot her.

Among the dead, she and Negan parted their different ways. He shuffled to the Sanctuary doors. She lumbered to the outskirts. Her way was longer, more room for error, and she was desperate to clean herself, paranoid that the walker guts would infect her bullet wound that Negan had rebandaged before they left. Not only was the distance longer, but since she had to follow the path of least resistance, she ended up meandering among the dead, following their hive mind so she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. It made her realize how isolated she was – self-imposed, all her fault – to be surrounded by the dead and feel like one of them. Rachel was surprised when she made it out with no problem, only a few straggler walkers following behind her until Morgan came and took them out himself.

“I’ll get someone to take you home,” he promised.

Rachel sighed her thanks, following after him. She tossed one last look over her shoulder at the fallen Sanctuary. Against all odds and reason, she hoped that Negan made it inside. And as she made her way back to Alexandria, Rachel was glad for her walker gut disguise that hid the sins of her flesh and evidence of Negan’s touch.

Try as she might, after that experience, Rachel didn’t think she could ever believe Daryl again when he said that it was us versus them. After the time she shared with Negan, she was sure that they were all one and the same.


End file.
